Rain
by Geertrui
Summary: The rain does things to him – releases hormones or heightens his senses, something – and before I knew it he was naked lying atop me with his lips slowly working over my own. I'm not complaining.


It was raining, and I wanted to write porn. Don't actually care it is ooc.

His body is warm. His heartbeat I can feel through his ribs, through the layer of muscle and skin. It taps against my own lightly, like the on-off drizzle outside against the window panes. It's a broken rhythm, pausing for indeterminable amounts of time. The rain shares the same rhythm as his hips, rolling over mine. Little gasps and muffled mewls escape his flushed lips – which are pressed just above my collarbone, in the hollow – as I buck up swiftly into him every time he slides backwards, back over me.

God knows how long I've been inside him. We went to bed somewhere around ten. The rain was heavier then. I couldn't sleep because of it, but it didn't really matter. The rain does things to him – releases hormones or heightens his senses, something – and before I knew it he was naked lying atop me with his lips slowly working over my own. I'm not complaining.

"L-Li…. Nn…" Nor is he, apparently.

"Shh, otherwise your bird will wake up and start going off. Again."

He shoots a glare down at me, at the smirk tugging my lips, and flicks my shoulder. With an air of casualness, he says, "Well it's certainly not my fault the rumours about Asian men aren't all true."

My jaw slacks a little and my eyelids flick shut. I shiver. His words stroke my ego like his body strokes my member.

"Mmm… I suppose."

My hand is resting on his thigh, the right one, the other with its fingers laced tightly around his own. I slide it up, over his cool and soft flesh, to his bony hip. Over his abdomen, the side of his torso, brushing a flushed brown nipple. I almost miss his gasp; the rain is heavier now. I trace his jawline softly with my knuckles before curling my fingers into the soft and fluffy tresses at the back of his neck. I pull him down to kiss me.

His lips work against mine in a manner similar to that of his hips – languid, lazy, lethargic. But still firm, and strong, and quite definite. Like he's telling me he wants me still, in his own special way, made sure to keep his dignity intact. And even though the feel of him sliding on me over and over is amazing, the fiery tingle that was smouldering away nicely in my groin area has subsided, and the pleasure feels a little numb.

His tongue brushes mine for the briefest of moments before going back to play with my lower lip as he suckles on it. It drives me wild, when Emil gets dominate-yet-submissive like this, and part of me just wants me to flip him backwards and take him fast into the mattress. He'd like that – and the array of cries I've drawn out of him can serve as my testimony – but, I think for tonight he just wants to go slow, make love to the rhythm of the rain. That doesn't mean I can't help him, though; the rain _is_ getting louder.

I drag lightly my fingertips down, over his back. His skin feels so smooth from the soap he uses, like the silks that Yao makes. He is soft on his waist, too, and my fingers splay there, palm snug in the little, ever-so-slightly feminine dip. I steady him.

Lips now pressing to my cheeks and brow and mouth, I wait for him to pull himself up and start to go back down before ramming into him, earning a weak cry. His legs tremble – I feel the little jolts on either side of my torso, where they are tightly pressed.

"Does that feel good?" I ask huskily, and he shoots me a look as if to say, '_what do you think_?' His brilliantly pale skin flushes.

"Do you like the way I do that?" Emil knows that I'm dirty talking him now, but he still blushes and averts his eyes. Again, my hips snap up like taut elastic and he is impaled very fast and quite hard on me. It feels so good.

I caught him off guard again, and he cries out, louder this time. Fuller, and a little deeper. His hand skitters back from where it was over my pec to behind him and on my left knee. He moves up and back, and steadies himself on me. The part of me inside his body moves with him, bending, and he clenches me a little as he repositions himself above me. His name leaves my lips along with a breathy sigh. "I love you."

He doesn't respond initially, but grinds a little as he gets comfy on my lap. I suck in a breath through grit teeth, and my eyes scrunch shut.

"Sorry. Have I hurt you?"

My reply is almost instantaneous: "God no."

"Mm." His hand trails lazily back to my top, and his hand cups my cheek. "I… I love you, too. I love you… a lot. Quite a lot. I probably love you too much." He gives a little, cautious rock. "Nikolas doesn't think it's healthy, how much I love you."

I can't help but chuckle at that, and think of how true it probably is. His brother has never liked me, and from Denmark's proclaim of, "Long Dong? But he's Asian!" upon meeting me (and mishearing my name) I don't think he's awfully fond of me, either. But that could just be Denmark being Denmark. I don't know.

"I don't think Nikolas is healthy. I have no idea how Matthias manages to do anything with him, what with the sizable _tree_ lodged up his-"

"Could we not talk about my brother and his rectum whilst we're like this? Please?" Scrunching his features up, he pokes out his tongue, and eying the soft pink muscle I miss the fullness of having him in my mouth. My tongue feels oddly swollen and my lips tingle with want to take his.

"I'm sorry. Can I kiss you?" I brush the pads of my fingers over his cheekbone and Emil rubs back a little.

A breathy little, "Yeah." and I push myself up with aid from my right elbow, sliding my hand from his cheek to the back of his head. I wind tresses of his hair around my fingers and hold him lightly in my grasp, let my lips caress his softly, like they'll bruise if I'm too passionate. And he'd never hear the end of it from his brother, if they did.

The tip of my tongue skitters over his lips, and he makes a noise at the back of his throat; high pitched, and short. I chuckle, and smile a little at his sensitivity. His hand moves to the side of my chest, rubbing over my ribs, and when I pull away it shoots up and tangles in my hair. He pulls me back to his lips with speed akin to the lightning outside.

And I moan, muffled, against his lips as they roll and pull and suckle mine. Tingling and burning, it's like they're pulsing in his mouth like another part of me was not fifteen minutes ago. My arms encircle his body tight, his stiff, little nipples rubbing over mine in a way that I don't find the least bit unpleasant.

From our position my thrusts are limited, and it's all on him to keep up the motion of our bodies. But he struggles a little – his strokes are short and quick, and he doesn't seem to be taking in as much of me as he was earlier. Emil grunts – I think it's accidental –and squirms a little, trying to get the good angle back. But my arms are coiled like the muscles in our bellies are; tight, and his movement is restricted because of it.

"Hey," Emil mumbles into my lips. "Hey, don't hold me like that. I can't move well."

"Mmm… But I like holding you like this." A hint of a whine, subtle, under my teasing tone. "I like holding you. It feels nice."

A huff. "Well, yeah, I like… holding you, also. But I can't really move… my legs are getting sore, from being cramped up like this, too." My hand trails down his back, the backs of my nails rubbing his spine, and he shivers the entire time it takes for my fingers to reach his tailbone. "G-God… your fingers are cool. Makes me think of the rain."

"Your skin is cool. Makes me think of snow. "

"That is because I am Iceland."

I hide my childlike grin in his neck. My face fits perfectly in the gap and I can't help thinking just how wonderful and beautiful and perfect he is for me. "Perhaps."

"Perhaps? Perhaps it is because I am Iceland? Are you insinuating that I am not actually Iceland?"

I kiss over his pale, pale skin – drinking in that condescending tease of his and slowly, slowly dragging my legs up under me, gathering him in my arms and holding him tight as I get into a kneeling position.

"Mm…. shush. I am you and you are me at this moment. We just… are. We're connected. One being."

"So spiritual, Hong Kong."

With the hand low on him I pinch his plump backside, before quickly gliding it up to his lower back, and my forearm sits snug around his waist. My other arm is around his torso, my fingers dancing in the fine, fluffy hairs at the nape of his neck and the plain of his back. I shift on my knees, settling into the position. He seems to understand what I'm doing.

"Is this okay?" I ask softly, just making sure, and he kisses me cheek in confirmation.

With the first thrust I had him moaning Icelandic; moaning my name, moaning so deeply and loudly I was sure Denmark even would have heard him from the other end of the house. With the second, he was a panting and quivering mess, his legs shaking around me and his muscles jittering. I suck heavily upon his adam's apple, and then behind his ear, and then down to the muscle of his shoulder. All Emil can do is let his head hang back and long, wanton moans slip from his gaping mouth, punctuated every time I swing him back onto me and our skin meets messily, noisily. He slides over me again and again, deeper, and I know I'm hitting him.

The low purr of faraway thunder; the splatter of the rain coming down in sheets against the shingles and the window panes; Emil's bird ruffling in its cage – these sounds I listen to but do not necessarily hear as I move faster and faster with this boy. Even I can't help moaning deeply with him at this point, and my abdomen throbs, pulses, aches with the desire to make him see white, and for my own release.

The muscles in my arms burn a little with exertion, but I hardly notice as Emil splutters words. He tries to tell me something, and I think I know, and it makes my hips snap and grind and thrust even faster. To get him over there, to make him come – the coil in my belly tightens to a point almost unbearable.

Amongst the moans and the pants and the groans and the cries, my name leaves his lips, almost quietly; "Li… Li… oh my god, Li."

"Shh, it's okay. Relax. Just relax. Just take it, feel it. What does it feel like?" And he lets out a long, somewhat high pitched whine – arching so far from me his head nearly brushes the mattress. His muscles tense and tighten around me. His hands grip me so hard it nearly hurts.

"Relax, don't be so tense. Just relax, breathe. Come." My voice wavers as I whisper to him, whisper into his ear like that, and I try to go faster, faster still. "Relax. Let your muscles loose. It will feel better then. Yeah, like that…"

And then, his moans turn silent, and all I hear is a tiny little, "Oh." before ribbons of searing hot bubble onto my abdomen, and I watch him as his eyes lock with mine and the jittering and the quivering go to new levels of intensity and he groans, oh he groans, so deeply and natural that I shudder and lean over him, and even though I try to keep my pace I can't. Messy and erratic, my hips piston forward, sporadically. His name, over and over again. It leaves my lips and fills the room as I fill him.

And then I lower him to the bed. Slip my hands from under him, and cup his face, and kiss him so softly and so delicately he mightn't have even felt it. Moments go by, on rain and lightning and distant thunder, as we breathe. Just breathe.

"Li." He finally murmurs. "Li. That was good. Really good. Amazing. You're amazing. I love you. Wow. Okay. Ignore me. I'm in a post-coital bliss. I'm not sure what I'm saying. Wow. Just… wow. Oh my god…" he laughs as he trails off, unwrapping his legs from around me and stretching out. He's often like this after we do it, and I think it is the most adorable thing ever.

The sands of sleep grate at my eyes, and my arms start to ache, but pleasantly. No burn. Just… pleasant. A muted tingle is fizzing away all through my body. I yawn.

"Do you want to go to sleep, now?" I ask, but there's no real point. A little smile is plastered to his face as he rolls onto his side and brings his knees up. He hums in confirmation.

"Well, hang on. We're upside down on the bed." A huff, Emil stills for a moment. Then he huffs again, grumbles something, and crawls to the head of the bed, flopping down with his back to me. Chuckling, I pull the covers over him. Slip down next to him, and press myself flush to his beautiful body. I give little butterfly kisses to the top of his spine. The rain patters on to a slight drizzle.

"You know, I here that there's a storm forecasted for next week."


End file.
